Undiluted groupthink

Eight glasses, eight ounces each. Every day.

We all know that water is good for you, offering such positive effects as healthier skin, fewer blemishes, increased metabolism, improved circulation, and a healthy digestive system. We also know that the best prescription for water is eight glasses, eight ounces each, every day. This maxim is so well-known that it has its own shorthand: the 8×8 rule. The 8×8 rule has all the attributes of useful heuristics: it’s short, easily memorable, and says exactly what it is. In fact, there is only one notable flaw with the rule:

It may not be true.

For decades we have been told that the 8×8 rule is an important part of good health, much in the same way as the food pyramid (which evidence suggests is also flawed). Athletes and mothers alike extol the virtues of good hydration. An entire bottled water industry has grown up around the idea that more and better water is better for you (and that the stuff from the tap will probably kill you). The 8×8 rule is ingrained in our thinking.

How then do we explain recent scholarly papers indicating that there is no scientific evidence for the benefits of the 8×8 rule? An editorial in the Journal of the American Society for Nephrology cites guidance that we can get the same amount in the food we eat, and that there is no evidence that additional water adds any benefit. Though the authors do not definitively conclude that more water is worthless, they do point to an absence of evidence and an ingrained “more is better” assumption that may prove untrue. In other words, those eight glasses of water you have been sucking down each day might have been a waste.

Water is also under attack from other directions. A new book by Elizabeth Royte takes on the bottled water industry, noting that sales of bottled water have risen 170% in the last decade, and that Americans’ per capita consumption of bottled water has increased from 5.7 gallons to 27 gallons in the last two decades. Additionally, a recent Runner’s World article warned of overhydration during marathons, claiming that it can cause brain swelling and seizures. Though Royte’s point concerns the monopolization of water and Runner’s World is addressing a more extreme scenario, one thing is clear: we are drinking a lot of water.

We are constantly reminded by schools, athletic clubs, governments, and bottled water companies that 8×8 is a key part of staying healthy, and it is highly likely that each of these organizations believes their advice. We can assume good intentions. Yet, where did this advice come from, and how did it become so embedded in conventional wisdom? What else do we unflinchingly believe that might also prove untrue?

The purpose of this chapter is not to put you off water; in fact, I like water and would drink it regardless of its dubious benefits. I also do not want to contribute in any way to anyone’s dehydration. Folks, keep yourselves hydrated.

No, the purpose of this chapter is to discuss the causes, effects, and indicators of groupthink. Although groupthink is often cited in the media as well as in numerous companies and government committees—and almost always after the fact—it tends to be one of the most misunderstood phenomena in organizational life. The next few pages should give you some clarity on what is and is not groupthink.

For the moment, let’s posit that groupthink is the result of an abundance of consensus, an unquestioning rush to agreement. Groupthink has been cited as a cause of incidents from disasters in space travel to misguided military invasions. It was a likely cause in the delay of human flight and in the demise of companies that produced buggy whips in the early days of the automobile.

As much as groupthink seems a broad phenomenon, though, its effects often are felt at a very personal level. Just ask Richard Jewell.

UPDATE: CNN is interested.